


we just lie awake in a stolen thought

by dustywords



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-06
Updated: 2014-05-06
Packaged: 2018-01-23 17:41:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1574129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dustywords/pseuds/dustywords
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His mom is lying about the case, the town is weird and seems to be stuck in the 80's, but when Henry starts his investigation he has no idea how big that whole lie really is. Set in 3B.</p>
            </blockquote>





	we just lie awake in a stolen thought

**Author's Note:**

> i just had to fix henry's story line in 3b. that curious, intelligent boy from season 1 disappeared and we got zombie!henry instead, who simply accepted the oddness around him. this piece is AU-ish, because it follows only loosely the events of 3b (but I couldn't fix all plot holes, i am sorry.)
> 
> operation polygraph was amid-ships' idea (thank you!) and a very grateful shout out to my brave beta! find me on tumblr: [tinygrumpshaw](http://tinygrumpshaw.tumblr.com).
> 
> (title stolen from the song "burden", by mutemath.)

**i.**

“You have to stay here, okay? There is something…I have to do.” His mom ruffles through his hair and smiles a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. It feels wrong, off, _not right_. His mom looks older, tired and somehow worried. There is something in her eyes that wasn’t there yesterday, that appeared out of nowhere and made her look like a stranger with a familiar face.

He just nods. “Yeah, sure.”

“I’ll be back in one hour. If you need something, call the diner downstairs, Ruby brings the food up.”

“Why can’t I go there?” He’s thirteen, surely he can handle a small town diner if he can handle New York City, right?

She clears her throat. “You must be tired, hm? Watch some TV and stay in the room, kid.”

 _Kid_.

He watches her go and frowns, because this is not his mom and he wonders if a case is enough to change a person completely or if the break up with Walsh was too much or if the town is to blame here.

Considering that the town has like no cell phone reception, it has to be option three.

This town is clearly cursed.

**ii.**

Something is definitely off. Everyone around him behaves as if they knew him. The worst part, though, is that his mom keeps lying to him. First, he met friends of hers he never heard of before (and just for the record, Mary Margaret is a name that you don’t forget so easily) and then there was the incident with the woman and a shattered plate in the diner.

A woman who looked at him and at his mom as if she’d believed them to be dead. A woman who looked utterly surprised and devastated at the same time at the sight of them. And then his mom walked away with her and he had to sit through some weird small talk with MM and David and a lot of cleared throats and _uhm_ ’s and _erm_ ’s.

He barely listened to them. All he could do was to think about that brunette with the heartbroken look on her face and his mom’s reaction.

“So, you’re friends with that woman, too?” Henry chews his fries and watches his mom carefully. They are eating lunch at the diner. “The brunette from earlier?”

She seems distanced, closed off. But she smiles at the word “friends” which tugs at his heart for a reason he can’t name. “I wouldn’t use that term, but yeah, we’re kinda friends,” she relents with a tilted head, before she sips at her soda. “It’s complicated,” she adds when she meets his curious, waiting gaze.

Henry doesn’t bother her with that anymore, instead he complains about the poor cell reception and the slow internet that he tried to use after breakfast at the B&B cybercafé downstairs (well, it’s actually not really a cybercafé, it’s just one old ratty computer with Windows 95 and an internet connection that is even slower than the traffic of Manhattan on bad days). His mom smiles and nods a lot, but she’s not there and if he’s honest, his thoughts are all over the place as well.

His mom won’t tell him the truth anymore? Fine, he can deal with that. He wishes she would trust him like she used to, they always talked about stuff that bothered them (usually during a video game, like the whole Walsh-proposal-thing), but _oh well_.

Time for Operation Polygraph.

**iii.**

He is in a stationary store that is more like a little market, because it sells various stuff, from food to magazines to DVDs and VHS (dear god, who buys them nowadays?) to notebooks, pens, and souvenirs, literally everything can be found in this small shop. Henry wonders how the owner managed to get all the things in here.

“A notebook, a cherry coke and black ballpoint pen… Anything else?”

He spots something behind the man that is not much taller than him—so not very tall at all. “Yeah, that package with two black and yellow disposable cameras, please.”

“Very well. Your total comes to $46.98.”

He hands the man fifty bucks he stole from his mom’s purse and yes, it feels horrible, because to this day he didn’t steal money from his mom, but he didn’t actually think of taking his saved money with him when they left New York out of the blue.

The man with the kind face hands him his change and wishes him a nice day. He just nods and leaves the shop, looking around to see if his mom is somewhere. He isn’t exactly following any rules now. Not only did he steal money, he also left MM and David’s apartment, while both were in a deep conversation about possible names for their future child, what crib they should buy and which buggy would be best. And his mom told him to stay there.

But he needs to find out more about this town. The guilt about the stolen money is replaced with excitement shortly after his stop at the stationary shop. He walks through the falling snow flakes, sipping at his coke and looking around. The town is quiet but somehow he likes the change. No honking cars, no sirens, no crowded sidewalks.

He finally stumbles across a playground with a castle and he’s filled with a nostalgic sense that makes him smile. He remembers all the times his mom went with him to Central Park and how she pushed him when he sat on the swing set. The memory of their warm laughter makes the cold winter morning more bearable.

He uses his hand to get rid of the snow and the sleeve of his jacket to dry the spot he wants to sit down. He takes the notebook and the pen out of the plastic bag, opening it and staring at the blank page. Then he writes in bold letters OPERATION POLYGRAPH as the title and starts to think.

He loves to watch crime shows and the best part is to investigate together with the detectives on screen, trying to figure out the murderer before they do. All investigations start the same: collecting information about the victim, the crime scene, everything that could be a helpful hint in their search for the murderer.

He decides that this is the best approach to find out what his mom is trying to hide from him and how this town plays a part in her network of lies about why they are really here. Because after that incident with the brunette at the diner? He isn’t entirely convinced if there is really a case and that his mom went here with him for a completely different reason. A post-Walsh reason, perhaps.

The first thing he does is making a list of people he met so far. He’ll add the names of people he has yet to meet. Then he flips the next page (to leave enough room for all the names) and writes his first theory down: _mom is sad because things didn’t work out with walsh_.

He stares at the words when it’s starts to snow again.

He closes the notebook, puts it together with the pen in the bag and empties his coke before he leaves the playground. Time to get more information about the town.

**iv.**

A piece of paper attached to the door informs him that the library is closed for the rest of the day because of some town hall meeting. Tomorrow. He’ll go there tomorrow.

He slips back in David and MM’s apartment and they are still talking, louder this time about an unknown threat and something deeply philosophical about how friends disappear all the time right when you need them. Geez.

He puts his headphones on and turns the volume of his favorite Mutemath song on maximum.

**v.**

He can hear his mom silently talking to someone on the phone in the room next to his. It’s 1:34am. He’s lying on his stomach with his flashlight between the teeth in his bed and the notebook he bought earlier the day rests on the pillow in front of him. He can’t sleep.

His mind is still trying to think of all the details. He added Killian Jones to the list of names. He also decided to dedicate two pages for each person he meets, one for information, the other for the picture he plans to take with one of his Kodak cameras.

His notes about Killian Jones aren’t very helpful so far: _appeared out of nowhere, dresses like a pirate, talks like a pirate, thinks he’s captain hook?, looks at mom like walsh did_.

He doesn’t especially miss Walsh, not really, but…well, they were friends or something like that. Five months is a long time, enough time to bond. (His mom waited three months before she introduced Walsh as her boyfriend. But he figured things out like after a month.) They talked about video games and sitcoms (he actually isn’t allowed to watch yet, but sometimes when his mom had to work late and Walsh looked after him he let him watch them anyway) and ate pizza. He liked him.

But his head is filled with too many questions to really _miss_ the man that proposed to his mom. Maybe it’ll hit him when they finally get back home. One week, his mom told him before they parted in the hallway to get in their rooms. One week was how long this case here is supposed to take.

Another lie.

He sighs and closes the book, climbs out of the bed and presses his ear against the thin wall to find out with whom his mom is talking at this late hour. Killian? MM?

“… We need to branch out … What do I know? This is your goddamn town, Regina! … Yeah, I know … Kinda hoped our plan would work out … No, he’s in his room, asleep … Regina, I won’t force him to share a room with me, he’s _thirteen_ … No, haven’t figured it out yet, bec—would you stop interrupting me all the time? … You’re an ass, Madam Mayor … Funny, I was thinking the same thing … Talk to you tomorrow … Do you know how late it is? … Sure, me too. Goodnight, Regina ... Yeah, I am glad, too.” Beep.

He walks back to his bed and hides under his covers, ignoring his embarrassed, racing heart. (His cheeks are still on fire because he knows what his mom implied when she emphasized his age and dear god, eavesdropping has never been _more horrifying_ than in this moment. And why is his mom discussing _that_ with the freaking mayor?) But he is also curious about the rest of the conversation. It doesn’t really make sense, they were talking about the case, he suspected.

He closes his eyes and tries to think of nothing.

After some minutes, tired and still traumatized, he pulls the notebook under his pillow out again and adds another double page, because he has to as long as the memory of the conversation is still fresh. This time about the mayor: _mayor of SB, “kinda friends” with mom, seems to know me, mayor + mom = shared past?_

Well, he has to consider every possibility and even though his mom never mentioned the mayor before, he is sure that they had to have history together—after he was born, because the mayor recognized him in the diner and seems to be interested in his life. (He wonders if mom maybe sent her pictures of him over the years via email which is why she instantly knew who he was when she spotted them in the diner.)

He turns a few pages over, writing in bold letters THE CASE on top of the page and yawns, because it’s long past his usual bedtime and he has no clue what to write here.

He puts everything back under his pillow and exhales a long breath before closing his eyes. He feels like he’s on a secret mission and even though he is not a kid anymore, it still feels…exciting to him.

**vi.**

The next day his mom brings him to the harbor and he doesn’t get why, until he sees Killian in the same clothes he seems to wear every day. Which is…ew, to say the least. (He really hopes that he showers often enough.)

“I hope it’s okay if you stay with him?” she asks him for the second time since they left the diner after they ate their pancakes for breakfast. She is wearing the leather jacket again, even though it’s freezing cold and the snow is falling and he doubts that the black beanie is enough to keep her warm, but he says nothing. He just observes. For some reason her choice of clothing seems to be another hint.

The notebook, pen and Kodak are in his backpack, together with his PSP, his useless phone that works only within the town limits and a map of Storybrooke he found at the desk of the B&B.

He shrugs. “Everything’s cool. How long do I need to…stay with him?” Killian is still too far away to hear them. He eyes the gloved fake hand with curiosity.

His mom nudges his shoulder. “He’s…weird, but right now he’s the only available…uhm, person to look after you.”

“You were totally gonna say babysitter, right?”

She chuckles and it’s almost his _mom_ again. Almost. “I’ll see you for lunch. And after that…you could spend some time with Regina? She promised you ice cream, remember?” she quickly adds and looks at him with hope in her eyes.

He quickly nods, because yeah, spending time with the mayor sounds awesome in regard of his ongoing investigation. He needs more clues, more information. This is perfect. “Sure, I remember. Sounds great,” he plays his excitement down and then they are in front of Killian who gives Emma a crooked smile and nods at him.

He nods back. 

“Don’t do anything stupid with him, H—Killian. And don’t go into the woods with him.”

( _Why not, Mom?_ )

“Yes, Swan. I know how to look after a boy,” Killian sasses back, a little annoyed. “Don’t worry, he’ll be safe with me.”

( _Safe from what?_ )

His mom sighs and rolls with her eyes. “See you two later. Call me if you need something, kid,” she smiles at him and there it is again. _Kid_. It’s dumb but he somehow wants to hear his name again, he wants to listen to the warmth in her voice and know that everything is okay, but now that he takes a closer look he sees the exhaustion in her gaze and she seems to be constantly worried about something. Another grin, a small wave with her hand and she disappears.

“Tell me, mate: what do you want to do?” Killian’s gaze is still lingering where his mom was.

“Can we go to the library?” He still needs to know more about the town. But he can’t tell Killian that, right? (His mom almost called him something different. Something starting with H. He will add it later to the other notes about that weird full time cosplayer.) “I didn’t take any books with me, so…”

Killian looks really unhappy about his wish for some reason, but he sighs and lowers his head to look at his belt. “Sure, let’s go,” he says with another heavy sigh and they start walking away from the harbor.

Henry is silent for some minutes and from time to time he peeks at the man in his strange clothes, before he finally musters enough courage to ask him that one question that burns on his tongue since he saw Killian Jones for the first time. “Why are you dressed like that?”

“Pardon?”

“Like a pirate. Why do you dress like a pirate?” That could help his investigation. “Is it because you…ya know,” he waves with his left hand and he feels awkward, because he also wants to know how he lost his hand. “Because you want to be Captain Hook?”

Something flashes briefly in Killian’s eyes but it disappears as fast as it came. “I just like these clothes. They are comfortable. And I look devilishly handsome in them,” he winks and Henry looks away, because _ew_ , that’s not something he wants to discuss with the man who apparently has a thing for his mom. He wonders if he’s from here around and if he knows something about his mom and the mayor. Regina.

“And your hand?”

“Lost it in a…fight,” he mumbles and now it is him who looks away. “A crocodile took my hand,” he smiles his crooked smile and Henry chuckles.

“So, you really want to be Captain Hook? Why not wear a hook then?”

Killian’s smile grows. “Actually…” he starts and retrieves a hook out of the inner pocket of his long black leather coat. “I have one.” He shows him the hook and then he replaces the fake hand with it. “Better?”

“Sure, if you want to be a true cosplayer you have to stick to your costume. Screw others and what they think,” he nods and notes mentally to add all these new details to Killian’s page.

“Aren’t you your mother’s little boy?” He says it not in a mocking way, but with a fond look in his blue eyes.

Henry doesn’t know about that. Right now his mom isn’t his mom, so he isn’t sure how to answer that.

But Killian doesn’t seem to expect any kind of reply.

**vii.**

He sits on the floor of the library, a bunch of books next to him. He’s alone and he can hear Belle’s humming from her desk at the entrance. (Killian said something about needing a walk and told him to come back in two hours.)  She was already added to his list and he frowns because _Belle French_ sounds familiar. Is it from a movie? A book? He isn’t sure.

Right now he skims through the pages of a book about Storybrooke’s history (unfortunately leaving out the reason for that stupid name, because _why would you name a town like that_?) when he stumbles across something that makes him furrow his brows. The book is thin and talks about traditions (like Miners Day), but there is actually no real information. No dates, no names. It could be very well a flyer for passing by tourists. He checks every page, before he finds a date on the very first page, underneath the information about the paper quality and who printed that book. _1 st version, 1983_. On the next page is the introduction written by…Mayor Mills. There is an elegantly curved signature and he believes to see the letter R and something that is supposed to be Mills.

Regina Mills?

No, that’s impossible. Like, the mayor looks not much older than his mom, and his mom was born in 1983. It has to be a parent of Regina. He does the math. It’s possible, yeah. The mayor would’ve been decades in his office, but that happens.

Still, a feeling tells him that he should check this.

One hour later. In front of him are various copies of newspapers that he found on the other side of the library, all chronologically archived. He is sure to be in the wrong movie. Maybe even dreaming. He found a newspaper from 35. week 1984 and there was a picture of a Regina Mills and she looks like her daughter today. Actually, they could be twins. The longer he stares at the picture, the more he is convinced he’s looking at the mayor from the diner he just met yesterday.

Holy crap, what is going on?

He checks the newspapers and there is no change, the exact same pictures are repeated after a few years, the topics rarely vary and it feels a bit like witnessing the real life version of the movie _Groundhog Day_. (Walsh once made a remark about “being trapped in a temporal loop like in that movie _Groundhog Day_ ”, that’s why he knows the movie without watching it.)

He looks around the corner of a book shelf and checks if Miss French is still at her table. She is on the phone with someone called Ruby. The waitress, he remembers and he also has to think about the fact that Ruby knew exactly how he liked his cocoa. Maybe his mom told her. (He has to add her to the list.)

He takes his Kodak out and takes a few pictures, especially of the dates.

That whole freaking town just became hundred times weirder. He looks back at the newspapers spread in front of him. After a brief moment of hesitance he rips the picture of the mayor out of the front page. It’s the 1984 newspaper. He puts the piece of paper in his notebook, carefully puts all newspapers back where he found them and goes back to the pile of books. There is nothing useful, actually. The books are not about the town, but about Maine and the area around Storybrooke, without mentioning the town itself. He checked the index of the books and there are chapters about places like Rockland, Portland, and Brunswick. He finds a map on the last page in one book and to his surprise towns like Newcastle and Warren can be found on that map, just Storybrooke is missing.

Maybe the name is to blame here.

Or maybe—

Well, he doesn’t know, and it bothers him, because this town is really weird, as if it didn’t exist. Oh. But that doesn’t explain that it clearly does, because he is currently here. And what about the newspapers?

He looks at his watch. Thirty minutes left before Killian “Hook” Jones comes back. He takes out his notebook and starts to note everything new down.

**viii.**

He doesn’t talk with his mom about his visit to the library. To cover his tracks he lent a book, _The Hobbit_ , because there were no new cool books and he didn’t want Miss French to get suspicious. He mainly talked about that one hour he spent with Killian at the arcade with his mom. Killian gave him the coins and he tried to beat the high score of someone who named himself Mad Hatter at that racing game. He made a picture of that with his Kodak, claiming to want to keep that list since he made it to the 4th place.

And now he has the next picture for his notebook. Operation Polygraph is going well so far, even if it’s not only about his mom’s lies and her damn case anymore, it’s also about the town.

(He already noted that this town has a thing for stories, which might be an ongoing motto or insider, considering the name. _Story_ brooke. But later on he’s going to check that as well. Using that super slow internet connection with that old modem that makes funny noises.)

“I am happy you had fun with Killian,” she smiles at him and for a second she looks like his mom again. He noticed this morning that she smiles less and when she does, then it’s usually a small, wistful smile. Maybe she misses New York just as much as he does? Or is because she actually likes that pirate? But what about the mayor? “I feel bad for being away all the time.”

“How’s the case going?” His chance to shine, his chance to find more details about the reason why they are in this strange town that seems to have the same mayor since 1983, no matter how crazy that sounds. But then he remembers how most things are from the 80’s or 90’s in that town, like the internet modem of the B&B or the small fiction section in the library.

His mom shrugs, looks at her plate with the pasta she ordered and sighs. “Not so well,” she finally says, lifting her gaze. “I thought it would be easy and that’s why I seem to miss a lot of important things,” she continues and it’s vague and yet it’s not.

“What is it about? Do you need to…find someone?” And who hired her? The mayor? David or MM?

“Yes, a woman. And I…underestimated the troubles of that case. I have nothing. No name, no picture, just…some details.”

“Oh.” He wants to ask more, but his mom waves Ruby over to ask for the check. The moment is over and he simply tries to fit the case into that town and its now revealed weirdness. He can’t tell his mom though. He feels like she wouldn’t approve of him poking around, trying to find out what exactly they are doing here. She seems to make sure that he stays out of certain places, like the woods, to avoid…something. But what? It gnaws at him and god, he’s just so tired of this hide and seek game. He is frustrated and it’s hard to cover that.

“So, you have one hour left, before Regina picks you up. Do you think you can manage one hour on your own?”

“Yeah, I wanted to check my mails and read some reviews about the new _Spider Man_ movie.” He gives her a crooked smile, hoping that it is enough for her to not see the lie. She has a gift to see right through him.

But his mom is so busy with her thoughts and roaming through her wallet—

 _Uh-oh_.

Her forehead knits, but she says nothing, she doesn’t even look at him, she just shrugs and pays the bill. Then she gets to her feet, looks at him one last time before kissing his forehead. It’s still not _right_. “Tell Granny to hand me the bill over tonight, okay? And don’t spend the whole hour in front of that screen, you play enough on your PSP already. We don’t want the nerd to wear glasses and give him away, hm?” she teases him and he groans and gives her a mockingly stern look back, but this moment just feels like home and he wants to hold this second forever and stop the time and forget what he found out about the town today.

But his mom leaves and the moment is over.

He spends the whole hour in front of the old PC and it’s okay, because the old lady called Granny just waves his request to give his mom the bill off like  a fly. (“You paid once, that’s enough, young man.”)

His notebook is filled with new information. Disturbingly enough there is a pattern and he might be onto something. He googled “Belle French” to find out why that name seemed so familiar to him, but he didn’t find anything useful. He typed “story with Belle French” in the search bar and the suggestions led him to Disney.

Henry remembers the name Mad Hatter in that high score list at the arcade. He has to think about Killian who is dressed like a dark version of Captain Hook, also in a Disney movie. Maybe this town is…a Disney themed looney bin, where the mayor doesn’t age and everyone knows everything and nothing, because the internet is slow and the newspapers talk about nothing of importance and there are no books and the cinema shows _Star Wars: Episode VI_ , a movie released May 25, 1983.

Where will it stop?

(It’s funny that it is _Star Wars_ out of all movies released in 1983, because didn’t Disney buy that whole franchise for $4 Billion? He googled it too, of course.)

His head hurts when he walks down to wait outside the diner for the mayor.

What in god’s name is his mom trying to find in this town? Cinderella? The Lost Boys from Neverland?

Everything seems possible right now and he isn’t sure if he likes that thought.

**ix.**

The walk with the mayor through the park while eating ice cream made Henry aware of two things: 1) the mayor totally had to know him when he was little and she still cares about him a lot and 2) if he wasn’t mistaken the mayor looked slightly restless when he mentioned Walsh and his proposal, which can only mean that not only did she know him when he was little, but maybe, _maybe_ his mom and Regina were about to raise him _together_.

There weren’t many Walsh’s in his and his mom’s life.

He sits on his bed and draws a broken heart behind the _mayor + mom = shared past?_ , feeling robbed of something he didn’t know he wanted. Regina seems like someone who would have made a great mom. She listened to him patiently, treated him like an adult and not like a child and told him a lot about the town. (The same general information he already found in that book in the library, but he kept his mouth shut, because for some reason he really liked listening to her voice and it filled him with some sort of peace.)

He directs his flashlight to the watch on his wrist. Almost midnight. His mom is still not back and he spent the rest of the day with Regina. She didn’t invite him home, but they went to the diner and talked about comics (the mayor is one huge geek when it comes to Marvel and DC) and sometimes she looked at him so so sad, even while smiling that the feeling to hug her grew with every time he spotted that look in her dark eyes. Instead he looked down at his cocoa and tried to ignore the tugging at his heart.

He wanted and planned to find more out about the town, the case, but during their time together he somehow forgot that. He can’t really add more to the list of things he knows about her. Instead, he attaches the ripped out picture of the newspaper with a paperclip to the page about the mayor. He updated the page about the case, _mom looking for a woman, no name, nothing really_.

He puts the notebook under his pillow and lies on his back, staring at the dark ceiling. He wonders what things he would find in the woods and starts to argue with himself, whether it would be wise to go there or not. But what could happen? He walks to the comic store two blocks from their apartment on his own, and they live in freaking Manhattan, a place that is like ten times more dangerous than this sleepy town.

He turns around and stares at the window. He can see the street lights and misses the noise. It is _too_ quiet. How can they live in this weird town? So many things just don’t make sense. It still won’t get into his head like the mayor of Storybrooke in the year 1984 (according to that picture he now has hidden in his notebook) can look _exactly_ like Regina looks now. Is there a fountain of youth around? A wishing well? A time machine?

He groans.

This is nonsense. He believes in karma and funny coincidences and that sometimes life leads you to places where you are supposed to be. And while this feels like one of these moments, he just doesn’t know what the strange details about this town are supposed to tell him. And why is his mom trying to keep him in places where nothing happens?

Does she…know about Storybrooke’s secret? Is that why she behaves so weird? Is that the reason why she left the town, the mayor when he was little? He is sure that this is what happened, Regina’s face told him enough.

He rubs his eyes.

There is that numb feeling of an approaching headache.

**x.**

His mom is trying to de-ice the windshield of her yellow bug when the condescending laughter and the ringing of the diner’s door bell reach them.

“Don’t be ridiculous, I don’t need help.”

“What are you hoping to find?”

“A quiet place to think and since you are talking all the time, I suggest our ways part here.”

He watches the mayor with a man he has never seen before. He smiles at Regina, even though she searches her bag for her leather gloves and doesn’t pay attention. Is that her husband? But why does the mayor always look so sad?

The man goes back in the diner, the mayor doesn’t look back at him and his hopeful eyes that stop at the door to cast one last look at her and then she disappears around the corner.

Something falls to the ground. He blinks and looks at his mom and at the object to her feet. The ice scraper.

His mom looks after the mayor and poor Killian for thinking his mom is interested in him. He un-pauses his game and fixes his gaze back on the screen of his PSP before this whole thing in front of him becomes even more complicated.

**xi.**

His mom drops him off at David and MM’s place and there wasn’t much talking on the short way to the apartment. His mom told him that she needs to check something outside of Storybrooke and he just nods and pretends to be busy with his phone. (No, still no luck with the cell phone reception. Weird.)

MM and David have a guest, a woman named Zelena, someone who doesn’t know Emma or Henry. Which he enjoys, even if her smile seems to be a bit too wide, too bright when she shakes his hand. Or maybe his mind is overly suspicious about everything that is going on, he just can’t tell.

Zelena and MM talk about her unborn child and what needs to be done, which makes his mom frown and sigh and look away. It happens every time she’s around MM and David, her _friends_.

He is so confused.

He knows about his mom’s sad past and how her own parents didn’t want her, but that’s not MM’s fault, right?

“Don’t eat too many sweets, okay?” His mom watches how he takes off his shoes and hangs his jacket next to the door.

“Yeah, okay.”

“David and I will be back in a few hours.”

“Yeah, buddy. And then we can do something cool,” he promises him and high-fives him and David is like the cool uncle he never had. Not creepy-cool like Killian, no. More like the mayor. There is this feeling of an upcoming headache in the back of his head again the longer he ponders about that.

He tilts his head. “Is this about the case?”

His mom exchanges a brief look with David, before she smiles her small smile he’s starting to get used to after days of seeing it on her lips. “Yes, it is. David is the…sheriff of Storybrooke, so I asked him to help me. When we…return, we might go to the station and check some files or something. Call if you want to be picked up,” she tells him and kisses his forehead, touching his chin with her gloved fingers and it feels…different. Familiar, but different and he just—

“Henry?”

“I’ll call if I am about to lose my mind out of boredom,” he assures her and she chuckles.

“Let’s go,” she tells David and his hand hovers over the spot between her shoulder blades and he has to look away, because somehow the nagging feeling of a headache intensifies. What the hell?

The door closes and he looks over to Zelena and MM. They are laughing, drinking tea and talking about stuff he doesn’t care about, but sometimes MM looks over to him and smiles. He likes her smiles. They’re warm and soft and—

The headache. “Hey, MM?”

MM stops in midst of her sentence and turns in her chair to face him. “Yes, Henry?”

“Can I go get some air? My head kinda hurts?”

“Uhm, sure. Just don’t go too far on your own? It’s…cold?” She smiles uncertainly and even he can tell that she’s trying to hide something.

He pretends not to notice anything odd. He knows that people are less and less careful when they believe that their lies actually work. “Okay,” he shrugs, regretting that he took his shoes off.

“Do you…want me to come with you?” MM looks at him then at Zelena who just silently watches the scene and smiles at him whenever their gazes meet.

“Nah, I’m good,” he tells her and shoulders his backpack. “It’s snowing again, I’ll take some pictures for my album,” he announces and he hopes that excuse buys him some time.

“Oh, what a wonderful idea. Maybe later on we can build a snowman?”

 _Go away, Anna_. Geez, that movie ruined winter for him, didn’t it? He chuckles. “I’d like that.” It’s not a lie. He might be thirteen, but come on. Building a snowman? That usually escalates into a snowball fight; it usually did when he and his mom went to Central Park to build one. He looks at his sneakers who are wrong for the weather but his mom seems to be so _busy_ all the time and he is just thirteen and doesn’t really care. It’s not that cold. “See ya later!” he yells over his shoulder and closes the door.

He takes the map of Storybrooke out and wonders where to go first. The woods? Or the sheriff station? He didn’t know that David is the sheriff of that sleepy town, but maybe he can find some useful records, notes, anything about the case his mom is working on?

His feet carry him to the sheriff station, but it is closed. He kicks against the door and groans. What now? He walks around the building and it’s his lucky day, because somebody left the window half open in the restroom. He takes his backpack off and pushes the window further open, cursing under his breath. Then, he puts his backpack through the window first, before climbing in. Done.

He leaves the window open, taking his backpack with him. He stops at the door and tries to calm down. He just broke in into the sheriff station. He can’t just walk around, looking for more clues about this damn town or that case his mom is so silent about, can he? And what about hidden cameras monitoring the hallway he’s about to enter?

He thinks about Windows 95 and slow internet connection and _Star Wars VI_ at the cinema. He wonders if this place owns something like a wireless phone or something else remotely connected to the 21 st century. He scoffs at his moment of hesitance and then he leaves the restroom.

He was right. No cameras.

The lights are out and the station is not big enough to get lost. He finds the office and looks around. There are tables in the biggest room, piles of every size are resting on them and they look a bit dusty. There are two empty prison cells to his left and a separate office behind glass to his right. A faint “Sheriff Swan” is on the glass door and his heart almost stops.

His mom…was a sheriff?

Oh.

She really lived here. She lived here and somehow her job, the mayor, he—all these facts belonged together. He just can’t figure out the _how_. And why doesn’t she just tell him? Is she worried that he wouldn’t understand that she was once…what? In love with a woman? About to raise a son with a woman who now seems so heartbroken about the mere possibility of a _what if_ that he gets sad himself thinking about the future the three of them could’ve had. His mom wouldn’t have been always chasing after the bad guys and sometimes returning at 3am, cursing in the hallway when she tried to take her shoes off. Sure, Storybrooke is still a very strange place and some things don’t make sense, like the mayor herself or the newspapers or all the other things that he found out so far, but the thought, the idea of a family with the three of them makes his heart melt and freeze at the same time, because he is confused about this. He barely knows the mayor. He always thought that he and his mom were enough for each other, even though he really liked having Walsh around.

But now his mom is lying and he feels lost and disconnected to his life and it doesn’t help that he’s away from his friends, school, _home_. He is stuck in a small town somewhere in the middle of nowhere and no one can tell him anything, they just stare at him.

He stretches his hand out and traces the letters on the glass with his index finger, lightly as if he is scared that they might vanish the moment he touches them. But the golden letters remain where they are.

Twenty minutes later he opens a lot of drawers before he finds one with a filing folder and of course this town has not a digitalized register of citizens. The computers look as old as the one in the B&B. They actually look like they haven’t been used for decades now. He skims through the names, pen and notebook lying on the floor next to him, both open and ready to be used should he come across something odd.

Doesn’t take long.

The first name he adds to his list is “Mr Gold”. A pawn shop owner who seems to have no first name. The next one is Dr Archie Hopper, who owns a Dalmatian named _Pongo_. He notes the names down and doesn’t think about it, continuing his search for odd names.

Interestingly enough, Killian Jones is also registered in this town, his address is “Jolly Roger” and Henry just slams the drawer shut, because not only is his headache getting worse with each passing minute, he is irrationally convinced he is losing his mind. This can’t be right. Maine isn’t famous for Disney themed towns, is it? He has no idea. He always thought that New York had some crazy people to offer, but this was an entirely different kind of crazy.

He puts everything back in his backpack, but he takes a picture of the “Sheriff Swan” that is glued to the glass door.

Collecting evidence just became a tad more insane.

He is breathing hard by the time he slips into the office room. It’s dusty in here, too. As if no one entered this room for a long, long time. He ignores the stacks of files and walks over to the other side of the desk. The camera in his cold fingers trembles, when he places it next to a calendar. It’s from the year 2012.

He flips it open.

There is his mom’s handwriting and it makes no sense, because that is two years ago and two years ago they lived in New York and his mom has her own business, the “Big Apple Bondservice” and why is there a calendar with her handwriting?

He feels sick, but he has to read the notes anyway.

_February 8, 2012 (Wednesday) — 9am: boring meeting with Madam Mayor “I have to bitch about everything” Mills_

_February 12, 2012 (Sunday) — WHO WANTS TO READ THE LATEST REPORTS ON A FUCKING SUNDAY? REGINA “NO LIFE” MILLS_

He has to chuckle despite the buzzing headache he has. Yeah, that sounds like his mom. He changes the pages once again, not entirely sure why.

_March 1, 2012 (Thursday) — 10am: Emma Swan and the Funds Talk with the Dark Mayor (this town didn’t get the memo about entering the 21 st century)_

He stares at the notes his mom made and he wonders why his mom was here and how that all fits together. Or…does he suffer from some weird kind of amnesia? One, that makes him forget that in 2012 his mom actually visited this strange town with him?

No.

This is bullshit. He throws the camera back in his backpack, stomps off to the open window and doesn’t even look back on the mess he leaves behind. He’s done with hiding. He’s done with being treated like a kid that is too dumb to understand anything. His mom wants to lie and get away with it? Oh, no. He grits his teeth when he climbs outside, because it is cold, his head really really hurts and so does his heart, because he is so confused and lost and he actually contemplates about lying down in the snow and waiting for someone to find him, because he doesn’t know where to go.

He can’t face MM and her baby talk right now.

**xii.**

He somehow manages to find the white mansion in 108 Mifflin Street, despite his blurry vision and throbbing head. It’s not just throbbing. It’s exploding with pain and unanswered, crazy questions about this town, the people, his and his mom’s past.

Something isn’t right.

Instead of knocking he trips forward and crashes (head first) against the door, not bothering to get up again.

He allows the darkness to embrace him.

**xiii.**

Frantic pacing high heels. “Emma, I am not joking, _get your idiot father in the car and come over_!”

He drifts away again, dreaming about rooms on fire and glowing diamonds in mines.

**xiv.**

A warm hand on his forehead. Something tingles behind his eyes. “My little prince. You almost figured it out.” Rustling of paper, before he loses his consciousness again, the pain in his skull making it impossible to stay any longer.

( _What did I almost figure out?_ )

**xv.**

“…sure that he is okay? We don’t need to get him to the hospital?”

“Yes, Miss Swan, I am sure about that. I couldn’t find any injury; it seems to be something else, something you would’ve noticed if you paid attention to Henry.”

“Oh, cut the crap.”

“Our son ended up _unconscious_ on my porch, so no, I will not ‘cut the crap’! Are you insane? In his mind you are still his mother, so act like one!”

“Insane? I am sorry, I don’t need to listen to a woman who gave her heart to a complete stranger in the woods!”

“He is not—”

“I don’t care! Seriously, I am so done with everyone in this fucking town.”

He keeps his eyes closed and pretends not to hear the angry, cold snarl of his mom or the hurt silence of the mayor. Their words don’t make much sense, but his heart tightens at the words _our son_ and he wants to hear more.

A sigh. “I… am sorry. It’s just… we can’t find the person who is slowly turning this town into one giant mayhem and I don’t like that you got a message in your mail box with that threat and then you just go… you just go and…” A sob and he is sure that this is the first time that he hears his mom cry. He is used to smiles, laughter and happiness but this miserable version of his mom unsettles him to no end, because he wants to fix this, to fix her, but he can’t because he’s only thirteen.

“Emma.”

“And my parents… they are always talking about that… about my unborn brother and I am just… I just want to go back to that one year of happiness! Regina, I just—”

“Emma,” Regina whispers again and says something else, but he doesn’t understand it, because his mom is sobbing and also his head still hurts too much.

He is covered with a blanket and he squints one eye open. His mom and the mayor are standing in the entrance of what seems to be the living room and he doesn’t get why they are standing so close to each other that they could very well be kissing. Weren’t they fighting a few seconds ago?

But they are not kissing or fighting, they are hugging now, because his mom is crying, leaning with her red leather jacket and black beanie against the mayor.

He closes his eyes again and focuses on the headache, because right now this seems to be a way to escape from truths he doesn’t want to face, because they will shatter his entire world.

He can feel it.

**xvi.**

“I didn’t know where to bring it.”

“You could’ve given it to me.”

“No. Whoever is out there has to know about your return. That person also knows that we aren’t at each other’s throats anymore. Not like that, anyway.” A shy, flustered chuckle.

He blinks and he is surprised how close his mom and the mayor are sitting to him. Their backs are resting against the couch he is lying on and they seem to be comfortable on the floor.

His mom holds Regina’s hand.

 _Our son_.

In his mom’s lap rests his open notebook and a part of him wants to snatch it away from her, but he has to lie still, because he wants to listen to their voices. It helps to ignore the pain behind his forehead, somehow.

“He… never said anything. He didn’t ask about any of that,” his mom sighs and her finger traces the broken heart he drew behind his theory that they have a past together.

Regina rests her chin on Emma’s shoulder. “We have to tell him, Emma. We have to tell him before we go to the place that was mentioned in the letter tonight. I think…a part of him knows, that’s why he simply collapsed. Two realities are in his head. I don’t want him to lose his mind.” A kiss on the cheek.

He feels like he’s intruding something.

**xvii.**

“Henry.” A warm, not really familiar hand is softly shaking his arm. Regina. “Henry, wake up.”

He blinks and looks around. How long did he sleep?

“Hey,” his mom smiles and it’s soft and _right_. She is sitting on the couch at his feet, right next to Regina who is hovering over him. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Yeah, I guess?” His voice is hoarse and he clears his throat. His head is still pounding, but he doesn’t give in.

Regina leans back a little, taking his hand in hers. “We need to talk. And someone told me that it’s easier to talk if you have a mug of hot cocoa in front of you,” she smiles and he looks briefly at her scar that he feels like his tiny chubby fingers loved to trace when he was sitting on her lap, her arms around him and—

These are memories.

Real, actual memories.

_What the—_

He nods and breathes a shaky breath in. Regina helps him up, his mom is right behind him and they walk like that to the kitchen.

No one talks until his hot cocoa isn’t finished and his mom is looking at Regina like Walsh looked at her, like Killian is looking at her—it makes him smile. This whole thing is a mess and he overheard stuff that doesn’t make any sense, just like most things he found out lately, but this? This is simple and real.

“Here,” Regina says with a genuine smile and places his cocoa with whipped cream and just the right amount of cinnamon in front of him. Then she looks at his mom and it’s like they have a conversation without words.

(They aren’t as sappy as MM and David, but still sappy enough to be from a fairy tale.)

 _Fairy tale_.

The words make his head hurt and there is something in the back of his mind he can’t get a grip on, like a dream he wants to remember, but his mind just refuses to let him.

“Are you alright, Henry?” Regina furrows her brows, his mom’s hand flies to his back, a warm and comforting touch.

“Yeah,” he breathes taking the mug in both hands and he concentrates on the heat. “So, I guess you found my notebook?”

“We did,” his mom sighs. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“You were so busy, Mom,” he tells her and he sees how Regina flinches at the “mom” and he just wants to know what is going on. “You didn’t want to tell me why we are here and that’s why I started this whole investigation. I just…had to know.”

“We’re not mad, Henry,” Regina gently reassures him, leaning forward on her arms. She’s the only one not sitting on a stool at the counter, but standing on the other side of the kitchen island.

“Yeah, kid. It’s just…a lot is going on and if we knew—”

Regina is _glowering_ at his mom.

And his mom? She sighs deeply. “Fine. If _I_ knew, I would’ve told you earlier about…everything.”

“I…believe you,” he quietly says, studying her exhausted face. He can still see the sadness in her eyes.

And then they tell him everything.

**xviii.**

Their story makes no sense and a lot of sense at the same time. His headache gets worse and his mom says that she’s going to call MM and to ask her if she’s going to watch him tonight.

“What is tonight?” he asks… his other mom? His real mom? He sighs. This is still one giant mess, but at least his—Emma was honest to him, for the first time in days.

Regina rubs her temple. She looks tired and worried as well. “Nothing you need to worry about. But the person we are looking for is trying to… well, there are weird things going on. People vanish or turn into flying monkeys, which is why we think that maybe the Wicked Witch of the West is behind all this.”

“But you have no proof?”

“No. A lot more people came with the second curse—” she glances briefly at him, taking his now empty mug from his hands and frowns, “well, with the second curse a lot more people came over and it’s not easy to keep track who exactly could be the villain in this story.”

“Hmm. Do you know what she might want?”

“No. Your mother tried to find out who it could be and we almost caught that someone, but… we weren’t fast enough.”

“When?”

“We tried to make a potion for you, to make you remember,” she admits quietly and she looks so small in that moment that he has to look away. He glances to his mom, who throws her arms up while listening to MM—no, Snow White, his grandmother.

Geez, his family tree seems to be slightly too big for his liking. He only wanted one more person to his existing family and Regina seems to belong to their little family anyway, the three of them just _fit_. But the rest? Rumpelstiltskin is his other grandfather and his dad, Neal or Bae or whatever, is still missing.

“She wants to come with us,” Emma says when she returns to the kitchen. “She’s pregnant and she wants to come with us.”

“She’s also stupid, not that I am especially surprised about that,” Regina says and rolls her eyes.

He chuckles and they both give him an amused look.

“Anyway,” Emma starts, “she’s in the market right now with Zelena, her new bestie,” there is an underlying bitterness to her words, “and Zelena agreed to look after him.”

“Will he be safe... with her? Who is she?” Regina crosses her arms and Emma shrugs.

“No one important. Some maid or whatever. I didn’t pay attention when Snow introduced her to me.”

He can confirm that. Emma was busy eying MM’s swollen belly.

“How are you able to have an own bondservice in New York with that attitude?”

“See, I am _that_ good at finding people.”

“Except in the case at hand,” Regina reminds her.

Emma groans. “Well, considering that magic is at play here, it’s not exactly fair play, right?”

Henry can’t tell if they are arguing or just playfully bantering with each other. But he smiles nonetheless.

**xix.**

Zelena plays chess with him at David (or Prince Charming) and Snow’s apartment. He started to call them that in his head and even though it makes his headache worse, he somehow got used to the constant pain behind his eyes.

“Are you in pain, dear?” Zelena tilts her head and watches him carefully, her blue eyes are making him nervous for some unknown reason.

“Kinda sucks not to remember, you know?” he says and thinks about using the queen on the chessboard and sips at the tea Zelena made him. (“It does wonders against headaches, trust me.”)

He looks up and feels how his shoulders relax against his will.

“Sweet dreams, Henry.”

**xx.**

He wakes up with a jolt.

In a room of fire.

And that’s when it hits him, when all memories come rushing back.

 _Holy crap_.

**xxi.**

With the memories comes the horrible realization that he is trapped in that burning room, just like last time when he ate mom’s poisoned apple turnover to prove Emma that the curse was real and that he was telling the truth all along.

The heat hurts. It feels like being burnt alive and he is scared, because he is with this woman, Zelena, and his moms are away and he doesn’t know how long it will take them to find him. How long will it take for them to notice that something is amiss? What is this woman even planning to do with him?

He closes his eyes, ignoring the flames licking the floor around his feet, making it difficult not to jump up. The pain is not real. This is not real. He is okay. He will be. They just… have to wake him up.

He swallows hard.

And screams.

The pain reaches a level, where Henry is cowering in the corner of the room and holds his head. The fire is not physically affecting him, neither his clothes nor his skin are catching fire, but it _feels as if they were burning and it feels like dying_.

He breathes in and out.

And suddenly the heat vanishes and there is this tingling, soothing warmth rushing through his tortured body and soul and he can _breathe again_.

**xxii.**

There are warm arms around him, when his eyes flutter open. “Mom!” he gasps and there she is, his mom, the former Evil Queen who kissed him awake. He can still feel her lips on his forehead.

His mom gives him a watery smile. “Henry, my sweet little prince.” She hugs him and there are shreds on his mom’s black coat, and some sticky wetness.

 _Blood_.

“Mom, your back is—”

She is on her knees, the broken glass of the clock tower lying on the floor. “Shh, it’s okay,” she whispers in his hair. “It’s okay.”

**xxiii.**

One minute later, Emma is running the stairs up and her pale face looks so worried at first and then so relieved that he simply can’t warn Emma to not hug his mom and him too tightly because of the glass shreds and possibly broken ribs.

His mom smiles through the pain and looks at him, while Emma sobs nonsense in their little happy family hug.

His mom is right.

Things are okay.

**xxiv.**

They are in the hospital.

He and Emma spent the night on the couch next to his mom’s bed. His mom is still sleeping, but he is awake and so is Emma, because she’s playing with his hair, something she did often in the past year they lived that beautiful lie.

But he is glad to be back, to have his memories back.

“Hi,” he smiles and lifts his head and leans back to look Emma in the eyes.

She hugs him closer and kisses his forehead. “You okay?”

“Yeah.”

“I am sorry that I had to lie to you,” she apologizes softly. “I never meant for any of that to happen.”

“I know.”

“Good.”

They share a smile and then they look at his sleeping mom. He giggles. “You know, I thought you and mom were dating in the past?”

Emma _blushes_ and it’s hilarious. “I know,” she says darkly, ruffling through his hair. “But we aren’t—I mean, I don’t—ugh, don’t grow up, kid, everything just becomes complicated.”

“So noted, Ma.”

She looks at him surprised and then she gives him her crooked smile, the one he missed so much the past few days.

“I am so happy that you are teaching our son the really important things in life, Miss Swan,” a sleepy voice breaks the silence and they both look to his mom, who smiles groggily at them. They gave her something for the pain during the night.

He jumps to his feet and touches his mom’s hand, the one that took Zelena’s heart and ended things before he or his mom got really hurt. He has a bruise on his right knee, and he has no idea how that happened; he shudders when he remembers the burning room. His mom had a lot of glass fragments sticking out of her back, some cuts had to be stitched and Emma sat there, talking about some nonsense that made his mom scowl and say at least once “you idiot”, while he waited with his grandparents outside the room, behind the glass.

Due to her two broken ribs and pain in her neck, she has to wear a cervical collar for at least two weeks. Whale was relieved when the painkillers kicked in and his mom stopped calling him “an useless imbecile”.

“Henry,” she breathes and blinks and squeezes his hand lightly.

Emma is right behind him, her hands are on his shoulders and he feels just so… _full_. Happy, even. “Hello, Sleeping Beauty.”

“Emma, shut up.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

Henry chuckles. “You are weird,” he says and Emma’s thumbs stop drawing circles on his shoulder blades and his mom looks at him with worry in her eyes. Uh-oh. “I mean, a good weird. Still weird, but…you know what, never mind,” he sighs and Emma relaxes behind him and his mom glares at them.

“One year,” she starts and sighs. “I leave you two on your own for one year, and suddenly my son is just as eloquent as the questionable Savior.”

“Questionable Savior?”

“Yelling at Zelena that you are the Savior and then doing nothing but trying to glare daggers at her was not your smartest move, dear.” His mom smiles softly at her, despite her eye roll and the condescending voice she always uses when she makes fun of Emma.

He feels whole and warm and loved.

Emma huffs. “You lectured her about how black is your color and then you were thrown to a car and then through a clock tower, so _save it_ , your Majesty.”

“I am in pain, Miss Swan, don’t add more to it with being a pain in my neck.”

He and Emma eye her neck brace and all three of them blink at each other, before they burst with laughter.

His mom winces. “No, stop laughing, both of you.”

“Sorry, Mom.” Henry closes his eyes and smiles to himself.

**xxv.**

He is lying next to his mom. The armrest of the bed is digging painfully in his back and he is lying on his right arm to take as little space as possible, but he can feel his mom’s finger in his hair and he knows that she doesn’t mind him being there.

Emma is outside insulting the vending machine.

They both chuckle.

“I am glad we’re back home, Mom,” he whispers in her ear and feels her smile floating through the room, embracing him.

“So am I,” she whispers back. Then, after a small pause, she adds, “be a dear, and stop your mother from breaking hospital property.”

He gets to his feet and before he leaves the room he stops to look at her. She smiles at him and he wants to tell her that he never meant to hurt her, that he is sorry, that he was a dumb, spoiled brat, that he never really understood her love, that he doesn’t know how to make it up to her, but she kissed his forehead and he woke up so she has to know.

She has to know about the _I love you, too, Mom_ on the tip of his tongue.


End file.
